Newbie
by mackiederlay
Summary: Grell has been assigned to show the new girl the ropes in the Retrieval Department. She is one of few chosen for the position. This one, however, might push Grell in to breaking the rules all over again as she sets a course for revenge on the man behind her family's ruin and the murder of her only friend.


Newbie

Author's Note: I own nothing

A new trainee-reaper has arrived and Grell Sutcliffe has been assigned to show her the ropes! She's a little rough around the edges but, in time, and with proper guidance from the best reaper there is, she will blossom like a radiant flower and do her mentor proud! A troubled girl, Elinore "Ellie" Maclean seeks only revenge.

Chapter 1: First Day, First Meeting

She opened her eyes to greet the dark, bare room around her, all that obstructed the emptiness was an old projector which had been loaded with a film reel. Wooden heels clicked against the floor as she walked toward the machine, her pointed boots disturbing the silence, her steps echoed off the bare, dark walls which, from where she stood, remained unseen in shadow. There was a floor, so there must be walls, it was only logical. Timidly, her hand reached out and she touched the projector, drawing back as though she'd been burned when it flickered to life, shining light onto a far wall. The film began, though it wasn't like any picture she'd ever seen. It was her own life from the moment of her birth to the night she placed her father's Colt .45 into her mouth and pulled the trigger. She saw her own skull shatter, though it was very much in tact now, not even her old Stetson hadn't been removed from her head, hiding her brown hair in a bun beneath it. "Oh, my God," she whispered, she remembered nothing. Hazel eyes welled up with tears as she was forced to watch the events of her own life unfold; Her father lost the ranch, her mother died of Yellow Fever, and she'd been left on her own while Daddy drank his worries away. He didn't care about his daughter, or how she was supposed to put food on the table for the both herself and her grieving father. Mother would have wanted them to live on and try to be happy without her but Daddy just stopped, just drank it all down to the last drop of whiskey. It fell to Ellie to refill that bottle again, and again, and again. It all fell to Ellie to see that her father was cared for with little care for herself and no one to look after the young girl as she emerged in to womanhood.

To feed herself and father, she shot at rattlesnakes, coyotes, buzzards, anything she could hunt without getting called a poacher, or a thief. Ellie was a terrible shot, and her father's gun was too heavy. For weeks, all she ever shot were vultures. Ellie hated vultures more than any creature in the world; Big, ugly birds who'd make their circles overhead and quite rudely swoop down as if to poke at their target and check for any remaining signs of life. She never got on a horse, or went for a walk without at least three of them squawking at her, but when you live around Tombstone, a place named for death, it's to be expected that the buzzards would gather. Their meat was foul, and tasted rotten. Awful birds. It wasn't until she met Elan that her shooting improved. He was about her age, a sweet, kind boy from the Apache tripe which would wander through Tombstone in the spring. He found her cornered by a diamondback, out of bullets and just trying to remain still. Elan walked right up behind it, silent as a shadow, and snatched it up by the head, breaking its neck. "You shouldn't be out here alone, miss. It's too dangerous for a pale face like you." He smiled, his brilliant white teeth all the more radiant against his copper skin. They were inseparable, he taught her to shoot properly, throw knives and hatchets, and hunt rabbits, which tasted much better. The day they'd met, he roasted that diamondback over a fire. Roasted snake had always been her favorite ever since. The townsfolk caught them riding out to the prairie and the pastor, immediately thinking they were together as husband and wife, called the town together. By night, when they'd returned, Ellie having shot a few buzzards just for spite, a mob of angry townspeople separated them. They held her back and made her watch as they lynched Elan from an old, dead tree. When it was done, they left her there, sobbing over his dead body. They didn't even bother to bury him. She carried him back to the tribe for a proper burial, broken hearted and alone once again with her useless drunk of a father. Rage filled her heart for both the town and Daddy. All he ever did was laze around all because his wife went and died. His daughter meant nothing, it seemed. It was all his fault that they'd lost the ranch, his fault that she was all alone. With that same old six-shooter, she shot her father, then the pastor after she rode in to town. There, in the chapel, she turned the gun upon herself and died, tears still streaming for the loss of her only friend.

The projector, a moving picture of her whole life. Unless someone had been filming her without her knowing for all thirty-one years, the existence of this film real was impossible. Tears had begun to flow down her cheeks, her teeth clenched tightly and, in a fit of rage, she threw the projector to the ground, satisfied as its lens shattered. The entirety of her life. Each painful detail, had just flashed before her eyes and, through her tears, she screamed in horror and, as though the projector was going to scuttle across the floor and attack her, she backed herself away from it, which, after falling to her backside, turned in to a rather frantic backwards scramble. Back to the wall, her knees drew to her chest and the coarse denim scratched against her hands as she cradled her own lap. Ellie wept as fear and confusion overwhelmed her, curled in to herself and trembling.

Suddenly, a door opened, a tall man in a black suit with short black hair and glasses walked in, introducing himself as William T. Spears. "Welcome," he said before his eyes caught the overturned projector. "I see you did not find your cinematic record of use? A pity. That's going to come out of your pay." He spoke flatly, lacking any sort of emotion save for annoyance which dripped from every word as well as every inch of his expression.

"My pay?" Ellie questioned. You just made me watch my best friend, my brother, murdered all over again like I ain't seen it all before!" A heavy, western American accent coated every word she spoke. "You best tell me where in the Hell I am, you slimy son of a sidewinder!" Will was un-phased, taking a moment to adjust his glasses. The new ones never believed they'd truly died.

"Ms. Elinore Maclean, you have died by your own hand, violated the laws of nature, tampered with the timeline of your own life, and ruined any chance you had of reaching the gates of Paradise at the end of your natural life. You are dead." Will let that sink in for a brief moment, and before Ellie could speak again, he continued. "As it stands, you have to options; You may serve a greater purpose as a Reaper and keep souls which have departed their mortal coils safe from predatory demons, or you may suffer in Hell for your sins against human life. The choice is yours."

Ellie pondered for a moment. "A Reaper, collecting souls, you mean like the Grim Reaper?"

"Yes," Will nodded. "There is more than one, of course. I am a reaper, and you will train under another reaper should you so choose. We are a rather large organization, after all. It's necessary, since humans die in droves every single day."

"This is…I feel like Alice found a city slicker's version of Wonder Land."

"It can be quite overwhelming at first, but I must ask you to make a decision rather quickly. I have a great deal of work to do."

Hell did not sound appealing. Ellie remembered Father Jones, ranting on and on about the tortures the Devil bestowed on those who'd turn their backs on God. In life, she hadn't believed a word of it, and now, in death, it was all proven true. "Ain't much of a choice, I'll serve." She spoke with as much conviction as she could muster. Will seemed disinterested in Ellie's motivation, giving only a nod of acknowledgement. "There are some forms you need to fill out," Will said. "Then, you may begin your training. You have been selected for the Retrieval Division, field work, a position often reserved for men. Our female employees usually gravitate to other departments; Payroll, Scythe Acquisition and Approval, and other office-level employment." Ellie furrowed her brow. Throughout her life, she'd been doing a man's work; Cattle ranching, caring for the horses, repairing things around the farm before their land was lost. Then it'd turned to hunting, selling pelts, tanning hides and the like.

"It ain't much difference to me whether a man does the work or not, just that it gets done…You ain't tellin' me much on what I'd be doing, so maybe I best decide after?"

Will nodded. "Yes, quite right. First, you must choose a Death Scythe, it will serve in releasing the soul from the body and sending it on to the next plane to be processed accordingly. Once that's done, you must collect the Cinematic Record from your client so that their soul might be weighed accurately. In terms of field work, the best way to learn is by experience. The traditional scythe is a touch obsolete these days, I suggest something customized."

Ellie chose a revolver, a Colt .45 just like the one which had ended her own life. She was one Hell of a shot now, thanks to Elan. Putting a bullet through a diamondback wasn't easy but he'd taught her how, and she'd learned to shoot an arrow through one quite well. The gun was heavy and loud, but effective and, once strapped into a holster on her belt, she felt powerful. Her fingers rested on the grip and she felt herself smile. Now, it was time to get a taste of what this job was really like. Physically, she had changed. Ellie's eyes, once hazel, were now a bright shade of yellow and she required glasses to see long distances. Will told her that was normal, the change in vision allowed her to see human souls and view their Cinematics in exchange for near-sightedness. Her vision was meant to decline, but it was unlikely she'd go blind. She could leap rather high and for long distances, nearly flying, as well as run faster than any human. Aside from her victims and those to whom she'd reveal her presence, none would see her. Even the thunder-clap of her gun would be silent to non-celestial creatures. Ellie was neither demon nor angel, but something in between which, was tolerable; Perhaps this was Limbo? It wasn't all bad. Her teeth would sharpen to shark-like points. Never having seen a shark, Will had to show her a picture. "Dang, and I ain't a demon? Could have fooled me!" Her guide thus far only rolled his eyes, he seemed to dislike the comparison between himself and a Demon, but, if the shoe fits, wear it. With her Revolver Scythe awaiting approval, Ellie sat in a sort of company break room which offices in the big cities kept for their employees, waiting for her mentor to show her the ropes.

An hour passed, maybe more, she'd taken to polishing the barrel of her gun to a silvery shine. People came and went, a cast of characters as she'd never seen before but she tried hard not to stare. Some had those monstrous teeth, and eyes which nearly glowed. Ellie brought her hat low in an effort to hide her own face, her thumb bumping in to the frame of her glasses which caused her to jump, she'd forgotten they were there. The other reapers were all dressed in black suits, they all looked like bankers, investors, business men you'd see in the cities and they treated death like any other business, talking to each other about quotas, their boss' ridiculous demands and the like. She hadn't noticed when the lounge door opened again but heard someone call her name in a rather high falsetto as though singing. Turning she saw a man with impossibly long, red hair which swept past the backs of his knees, enormous green and yellow eyes, and a wide grin with those razor-sharp teeth which made her run her tongue over her own just to check that hers hadn't changed. His grin was far too wide for any human and, when she approached, he seemed displeased. "Oh, dear. We're going to have to do something about your clothes. All that brown just won't do! Well, there's still time to fix that, not to worry!" As he spoke, he'd pulled her hat away and began fussing with her hair. "Do you use any product at all in this? It's a rat's nest!" Stepping back, Ellie slapped his hands away.

"Hey, ain't here to get all dolled up like some painted woman! Is that what you do here? Make sure all the reapers are pretty? Already had some city slicker tell me girls are supposed to work behind desks around here, but somebody put me down for whatever the Hell field work is." The red-haired man's grin fell, only to return a moment later as though nothing could dampen his spirits for more than a few seconds.

"Field work is so much more exciting, my dear Elinore, you're going to love it, and it'll help you keep your figure! The girls at the desks tend to spread a little at the hips, if you know what I mean?" The man threw an arm around her shoulders, ushering her out of the room. "And you'll be working with me the whole time, you might even be as good at this as I am one day, with lots of practice, patience and…Luck?"

"You think real highly of yourself. What'd you say your name was?"

"Grell Sutcliffe, at your service!" He gave a courtly bow, his red coat flared behind him as he moved and reminded Ellie of a Spanish dancer she'd seen once. He even wore the same kind of shoes. She wondered if he'd been a dancer in his former life, or if he'd remember.

"Call me Ellie." Instinctively, she reached to tip her hat, but it was gone, she'd forgotten that Grell pulled it away. He must have thrown it somewhere. "What'd you do with my hat?"

"That old thing? I tossed it in the trash! You don't have a face for hats anyway." He waved a black gloved hand dismissively. "Now, come on!" He took her hand, forcing her to run as he pranced down the hall. She followed Grell up a few flights of stairs to a sort of dormitory. He hummed as he threw Ellie in to one of the rooms. Nearly everything in this room was red; The sheets, hair brushes, anything Grell could have personalized was either red or pink. The wall above his bed was covered in photographs of a man she didn't recognize. Tall, pale, in a double-breasted three-piece black suit with longish black hair, and often with a boy who looked to be about ten years old.

"This your family?" She asked, pointing up to the pictures.

"Huh? Oh, I wish! That's Bassy- Uh, I mean, his name is Sebastian. We were meant to be together!" Grell's hands pressed over his heart, a dreamy expression in his eyes. It didn't look like the man in the pictures knew he was being photographed, neither did the little boy who seemed to have lost one of his eyes, wearing a patch over where his eye should have been. "Bassy is my one true love, every time I see him it gives me shivers! Sadly, he's trapped by that awful little brat who orders him about, wasting all of his talents and beauty. It's tragic! He deserves better. We'd make the cutest couple, if only he could see that!"

Ellie nodded. "I ain't much for matters of the heart. Only know what I hear or read in stories. You ever try tellin' him how you feel?"

"Only all of the time," Grell muttered under his breath. He grabbed Ellie's arm and nearly tossed her on to the cushioned seat in front of his vanity, working the tangles from her hair. The girl winced in pain when he pulled, but remained quiet and still as memories of her own mother's heavy handed brushing came back to her. Grell went on about Sebastian and the more he spoke, the more Ellie caught him calling himself a woman, or a girl and she felt horribly embarrassed for mistaking Grell for a man. She should have known better than to judge by the clothes she wore. She listened, offering a smile as Grell brushed her hair and talked on and on about her various crushes. She'd never met that many boys other than Elan, and he had become more like a brother to her than a crush or a lover.

"Grell, I think you got a lot to teach me, and I got a long way to go." Ellie sounded worried. Grell couldn't quite discern her meaning, but then, she had other matters on her mind, namely her true love, Sebastian.


End file.
